The Better Species
by Atreyu429
Summary: In a world of danger and fear, on a mission they aren't expected to survive, two star-crossed lovers will embark on a journey to save the galaxy. This summer, watch as Garrus, a hardened turian vigilante with nothing to lose, and Shepard, a hardened soldier with even more nothing to lose, find that love isn't always so easy, and that some things are worth fighting for. Rated PG-13.


**A/N: OMG XDDDDDDDDD so liek i totaly LUV Garrus (CALIBRATIONS lol XDDDXDXDXDXD) and rote a storie to sho ma LUV cuz hes so awesum nd stuf!1!1! CALIBRATIONS lol guise plz be niec dis iz ma furst storie ;P enjoi!1!1!1 XDDDDD lol**

The Better Species

Garrus had a problem.

His talons whisked dutifully over the holographic keys but his mind was far away. He would snap back to his tasks randomly, focus for a few blissful seconds and then drift off into his own churning thoughts. Normally this would be the time for him to recharge but, as of now, rest seemed impossible.

He couldn't quite explain how it had happened. Everything had happened so quickly, so . . . innocently. It had been a normal day—he had woken up, showered, slaughtered a few dozen mercs, eaten some lunch, had his way with a few choice turian girls, chatted with Joker, played dinosaurs with Grunt, and pulled off a quick three sixty no scope while smoking a cigar and wearing aviator glasses. Standard day, really. Now was the time he would sink back into the calming rhythm of mechanical work and masturbate over the sound of his own voice.

But something had disturbed that worn pattern—Shepard had stopped by on one of her infamous talks she liked to have. He always hated those. She'd walk in with a face made of stone and pester him to talk, even if he was in the middle of critical maintenance. Then she would ask some of the most inane questions he had ever heard—what is your species like, can I touch your fringe, is it true your cock is ribbed? He would laugh, cool as midnight dew, and give a polite explanation. Then she would just . . . stand there, awkwardly, not moving or blinking. Sometimes for minutes or, once, a few hours. Then she would keep talking like nothing had happened. He was halfway convinced Akuze had done something to her head.

Anyway, the conversation had started normally on a subject Garrus couldn't be bothered to remember. Something about his infinite awesomeness, no doubt. But it had ended oddly—it had turned toward turian sparring and Garrus had recounted his glorious tale of ravaging this young turian scout, pounding her, making her talons curl and her voice scream for the spirits, her mind bent into groveling at his feet like a semen-starved slave. He had left that part out for Shepard's sake, though. Once he was done she had sauntered over, smiled with her puffy human lips and said, "Why don't you test out my flexibility?"

Nothing had ever surprised Garrus so much in his life. He had choked out some vague affirmative and she had stalked off, deliberately shaking her rear end as she went. He had turned around and had simply stared slack-mandibled at his console since. The shock hadn't quite worn off yet.

The door whooshed open behind him. His cock stiffened.

"Oh Gaaaaarrrrussss," she called, her voice like melted margarine. He turned around, slowly, to see her wearing a tight black dress that she hadn't taken off in weeks. She flicked her hanging menstrual-red hair away. "Doing some . . . calibrations?"

A crewman in the mess heard this incredibly original joke and bursted out laughing, eventually rolling onto the floor and spilling his meal all over himself. He pounded the floor while his face turned bright red from the exertion. Through some miracle he got back into his seat, breathless and giggling maniacally to himself.

"Uh, yeah," Garrus said, mentally fighting his raging erection. "Shepard, you have something on your face."

There was a smudge of a viscous green substance near her mouth. She wiped it off. "I just came back from Thane's room." Thane himself walked into the kitchen area while smoking a cigarette, dressed in a bath-robe and blood red sunglasses. Shepard turned and waved—he nodded, grabbed his food, and walked away with his majestic scaled ass on full display.

She smiled at him, revealing some flat white teeth that Garrus totally didn't find alien or creepy. "So, how are those calibrations going?"

Another crewman heard this joke and immediately started laughing hysterically, saliva and mucus flying from her body, her sides in agony from the effort, the sound of her laughter bouncing around the ship. She fell to the floor, twitching and rolling, until two other crewmen picked her up and hauled her off to the bunks. The sound of her crazy laughter came cracking back like a dying whip.

Garrus' three-chambered heart thudded in his handsome turian chest. "Good, good, they're . . . good. Yeah."

Her eyes glinted like polluted water. "Do you wanna do something else? I mean, I know how much you love . . . _calibrations_. . . ."

The entire deck exploded into rancorous laughter, drowning out all other noise—each and every crewman doubled over in the throes of crippling laughter, foaming at the mouth, lungs squeezing, vomit erupting out from the contractions, soaking in their own urine. In the bar the crewman laughed so hard the reinforced window shattered, hurtling them out into space. They were still convulsing as radiation and triple degree temperatures eviscerated their bodies. Chakwas began running around, dragging crewmen into her office as they began dying from asphyxiation, driven insane from the sheer ingenuity of the joke.

Garrus shook his head, his foot and a half long cock bending in his armor. "No, I-I, uh—"

"Well," she said, moving seductively over to him, her nipples hard as nails. "That's a shame. 'Cause I know a few things you might enjoy . . . _doing_. . . ." Her stubby fingers grazed his mandible and his cock leapt to attention like a dog jumping for a Frisbee.

There was a loud crash behind them—a vent had caved in and left a jagged maw in its place. Jacob stumbled to his feet, his bland features sucking the life from the room. "Shepard, I was just wandering by and—"

"No, Jacob," Shepard said. "Leave me alone."

He smiled very uninterestingly. "Come on Shepard, have you seen my abs?" Jacob's dull and unappealing voice threatened to leech away all the charm in Garrus' body.

"I told you," she said, rubbing Garrus' crotch plate, "I'm with Garrus. And Thane. And Kaidan. And Liara. Maybe Zaeed too."

His face dropped insipidly. "But Shepard . . . the _priiizze_. . . ."

"No!"

Jacob huffed and ran out of the room, crying like a bitch. Shepard cackled. "So come on, big boy," she said, raping Garrus with her eyes. "I know you want me."

"Y-yeah, of course I do. I mean, it's not like I've ever explicitly stated that I don't find humans attractive."

Shepard started leaking, a drip turning into a stream. "And it's definitely not like I should be a better captain and not have sex with an alien crewmember after a few short conversations."

They both glanced off into a corner, as if they were looking disapprovingly at something.

Shepard leaned in and rubbed her foot along his, her five pudgy toes sliding seductively along his. She grasped his collar and forcefully pulled his head down. Her sloppy pink lips grinded and pushed against his coarse plates, hot saliva marinating the flesh. His three-fingered hand, unsure of what to do, reached out to her tender breast and squeezed it like a bicycle horn. It was, like, totally hot, man.

She pulled back and Garrus sucked in air that wasn't filled with her human aroma he inexplicably found attractive. "I want you to cut me," she said, not creepily at all.

He let out a hum that sent another cascade of moisture pouring out of Shepard. "You do?"

"Yes," she said, rubbing his gloved talon along her skin. Even though it was covered in armor the incredible sharpness of Garrus' talons ripped her soft human flesh open like used tissue paper. She moaned in orgasmic pleasure as muscle and bone was mutilated. "Cut me, tear me, rip me open. I want you to hurt me, Garrus."

"You might want to see someone about that."

"Shepard!" another bland voice yelled.

Kaidan stormed up the hall leading to the main battery, his severe normality covering up his blistering anger. "What do you think you're doing?"

Shepard returned from straddling Garrus like a monkey. "Kaidan? What the hell are you doing here?"

He crossed his arms like the whiny little bitch he was. "Well, if you must know, I'm apparently so weirdly obsessed with you that I would go to dangerous and ridiculous lengths to try and win you back. Including abandoning the position I've worked my whole career to reach to board a ship owned by terrorists."

Shepard scoffed, soaking Garrus' leg. "This is exactly my point—you're creepy and whiny. Leave me alone."

Kaidan rubbed his head. "Yeah, I don't know what's wrong with me. Usually I'm a perfectly level-headed and reasonable soldier, but now I just feel . . . strange."

Shepard managed to detach herself from Garrus' solid and superior turian body to mockingly walk over to the groveling man. "Look, bitch, I will never forgive you for what you said to me on Horizon. That was too far."

Kaidan furrowed his brow like a bitchy man-child. "Are you kidding? I had every right to be suspicious! You suddenly show up alive after two years working for terrorists? What the hell was I supposed to say?"

She laughed, clearly in the right. "How about 'sure Shepard, I'll join you, no questions asked'?"

His jaw dropped, the spoiled ghost of his bitchiness floating out of his mouth. "Shepard, I'm a high-ranking Alliance soldier. I can't just abandon my post! And why didn't you try to contact—"

Shepard punched him hard across the cheek. Kaidan, the heavy-set and decorated soldier, flew down and started crying on the ground, deathly afraid of the thin woman in front of him. She kicked him in the testicles, repeatedly and ruthlessly, over and over again until they popped like grapes. She laughed at her righteous deed. Kaidan, the bitchy baby, convulsed and moaned on the ground.

Shepard strode back to Garrus. Kaidan stood up, his balls a frothy mess, looked through watering eyes at the woman he had only "dated" for a month or so, and pulled out his gun and shot himself clean through the temple. Immediately the survivors of the calibrations joke limped out of Chakwas' office and, upon seeing the bitch's body, started kicking and pissing on his limp corpse, cheering and hollering over this man's whiny demise.

Shepard, proud of herself, ripped off her stale clothes and jumped stark naked into Garrus' arms, her squishy human body looking pathetic next to Garrus' obviously superior turian design. He didn't falter with this frail creature in his arms—he was turian, after all.

"I love you," she said.

"I know."

He carried her through the mess hall, his armor shining brilliantly in the light, a faint chorus of angels singing melodies in the background. The female crewmen exploded from their moisture, creating oceans of murky love juice on the ground, many dying from rapid on-set dehydration. The male crewmen bowed and saluted this obviously superior pinnacle of life before them, their tiny and un-ribbed cocks shrinking into their squishy human bodies. Many killed themselves that night out of shame.

As they reached the elevator, Kaidan's bitchy body floating by in the sex cocktail river, Garrus glided an absent talon along Shepard's pasty leg. She moaned. "Oh God."

"Please," Garrus said, smiling with his superior turian mandibles. "God doesn't have anything on me."

**Later. . . .**

Garrus strode effortlessly into Shepard's cabin, with the woman herself cradled over his shoulder. Shepard, the trained and battle-hardened soldier, was a giggly schoolgirl in his muscular arms. The room was saturated with the stench of fish—Garrus wasn't sure if it was Shepard or the mountains of dead fish decomposing in her wall-tank. Turian faces adorned the walls, perfect posters of perfect models watching the pair with perfect eyes. A turian blow-up doll with ribbed genitalia was poorly hidden under her desk.

With little effort Garrus threw the N7 marine clear across the room onto her bed. He hit a button on his armor and it detached himself from him in one combined motion. His naked body was so shiningly spectacular it scorched the walls and boiled the dead fish water—Shepard covered her eyes to avoid melting like that guy from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Dude, like, wow—it was amazing. She ripped and tore at her black dress desperately, feverishly, a rabid animal ready to make sterile babies.

Garrus growled—the harmonic soundwaves smothered Shepard and she came hard, squealing like a little mouse being mauled by a cat. He sauntered over, raptor feet clicking on the floor, and assumed the position. With one flick of his superior talons Shepard's dress disintegrated, revealing her spoiled milk colored skin. He had never been more turned on in his life, for some reason.

"Bite me," Shepard pleaded, a mess of sweat and desire. She wanted nothing more than for him to ravage her rusted skin hallway.

Garrus paused, his superior cock just breaching the magnificent folds of his plates. "What?"

The words wouldn't come for a moment, so powerful was her urge for turian penis. "I want you to bite me."

"Why?"

She looked up at him through her soggy hair. "Isn't that what turians do?"

"No! Why the hell would we do that?"

"But—I thought—"

"Shhh," Garrus said. "No words."

Garrus backed away and stooped his head down low. His tongue—which was, like, totally better than a human's—rolled out and began pulverizing her mammal hole. He yanked her folds with his plate-lips, bit gently on her clit with his needle-teeth, massaged her cervix with his long and superior tongue. Shepard screamed—she came about seventeen times, one after another, firing off like a high-school shooting. He continued, his mouth enveloped with her salty bodily fluids.

Eventually he rose and worked his way back over her. She was incoherent. He gently nudged her face but his talons sliced through her weak human skin. Violent pleasure squeezed out another orgasm and a model ship on the other side of the room was blasted by her passion cannon. They kissed, anatomical differences be damned, rubbing their faces along the other with no shame or knowledge.

Out of Garrus' folds came a glorious sword that would've put King Arthur to shame. It came out soaked in fluid, protruding farther and farther like a magician's endless cloth-rope. It was a spectacular penis—far, far greater than any human could hope to be. Like, seriously, it was so much better than a human's it's not even funny. Like _so_ much better. Seriously. His blue cucumber waggled for a moment, basking in its own greatness, before attempting to dock with her gaping cumfile.

As soon as Garrus' superior cock touched her meat curtains she came with the force of a thousand nukes—Garrus had to fight against the torrent of her pleasure milk to insert himself. Her putrid pink pit was too small for his superior turian penis and it tore open to compensate, turning her alleyway into a highway. Shepard came twenty nine times before he was even completely in—that's just how awesome turian cock is.

He thrusted like an epileptic jackhammer. Shepard arched her back and clawed her sheets. Her brain was overloading—the neurons were exploding under crashing waves of pleasure, ecstasy no mere human could've given her. She bounced between dimensions, realities, universes—she was riding high on a veiny turian chariot.

"Watch this," said Garrus. He concentrated for a moment and his foot and a half cock started vibrating like a dildo cell phone hybrid. Shepard doubled over in a blithering and emotional wreck as he slammed harder with his quaking three foot cock. "Try this one." His four and a half foot cock began rotating in a circle like a hotdog rotisserie, somehow, now gyrating and reverberating in incredible and orgasmic ways. "But wait, there's more!" His six foot cock lit up like a disco ball, shining blue and green and red and purple lights swirling in Shepard's ugly body. She came with machine-gun frequency.

They rolled over and over, Garrus' impressive figure blending with Shepard's imperfect one, plate and fleshy skin intermingling and blurring. They didn't stay on the bed—the pair went at it all over the room. She literally rode around on him, bouncing as if on a merry-go-round. Shepard lost track of reality—she'd go from being pounded on her fish tank to being pounded on her desk to being pounded on her bed. It was a protracted sex montage with shitty workout music.

Sometime during Shepard six hundred and fifty third orgasm Garrus decided he wanted to orgasm 'cause, you know, turians can control that. Because they're _awesome_. He grunted and hammered and lit a cigar and thrusted and shot a few mercs and pounded and did some calibrations and was generally just a far superior creature than a human. He threw back his head and roared like a superior primal animal. His seven and a half foot cock exploded with fire-hose pressure—Shepard went flying against the wall in the delicious stream and the shockwave caused her to have, like, three thousand more orgasms.

Garrus was at his peak—his entire body was coursing with superior turian endorphins that made him a violent animal who wanted to cut his "bondmate", or some stupid shit like that. He left the room with Shepard whimpering on the floor, beat the living shit out of Jacob to assert his dominance, accepted the pitiful offerings of the inferior humans who groveled at his feet, singlehandedly cured every modern disease, slammed a revolving door, fucked with Aria, and returned with a lit cigarette and aviator glasses.

Shepard was still on the ground. Garrus' magnificent cum covered her—she was scooping sloppy handfuls of it into her mouth. 'Cause turian cum tastes like honey and sunshine, duh. She looked up at him with those beady human eyes. "Want to go again?"

"Hey," he said, unzipping his pants. "It ain't gonna suck itself."

Shepard and Garrus then went on to have forty billion hybrid children because fuck you logic, they're in love.

The End.

**A/N: XDXDDDDXDXDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDXXDDXDDDDXXDDD DD so hoew wus dat guise wus it gewd and stuf cuz i relly LUV garrus (CALIBRATIONS loloololloollol XDXD) and wuld relly LUV youre opiniun and junck so yeh plz reviuw cuz CALIBRATIONS XDXDXD bye!1!1111! lol**

**Warning: This story is entirely good-humored and is in no way, shape, or form directed at any specific story or author. The writer of this abomination of literature, likely an obese neckbeard living in his mother's basement, wrote this for shits and giggles and nothing more. Thank you for reading.**


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